


A Cycle's Worth

by goresque



Series: Taken In Hand [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Breeding, Creampie, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Felching, Gags, Knotting, Master/Pet, Other, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, Sex Toys, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, mentioned daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresque/pseuds/goresque
Summary: Rodimus joins Drift and Ratchet for a cycle to test out Drift's new mod.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: Taken In Hand [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571881
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	A Cycle's Worth

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, more smut.
> 
> In this fic the characters partake in risk-aware and consensual kink, where everything that happens is pre-discussed.

“Ratchet wants you for a cycle,” Megatron announced to his submissive from where he was scrubbing Rodimus’ thighs clean of transfluid and slick. He took the time to lean in and press a tender kiss against one inner thigh, just below his open and swollen valve. He purred when Rodimus arched up into him, but knew better than to stimulate him further. Megatron returned to massaging circles with the chamois into his legs. “He says he had something exciting planned for Drift, who requested you be there.”

“Mmm, when?” Rodimus mumbled, processor still blown from Megatron’s earlier bout of eating his valve. He’d been carefully taken apart and put back together that orn, and he had been particularly disobedient. Megatron had a feeling he wasn’t getting the attention he truly craved— that or Rodimus was itching for a harsher punishment. It could go either way. 

“An orn from now, but he said it was flexible,” Megatron hummed, finishing up polishing away paint transfers and fluids. He tucked the cloth away for later cleaning and laid his frame down beside Rodimus’. “He requested you be a pet for the duration of the scene. Your negotiation and arrival would be my responsibility. Do you trust me to negotiate for you?”

“Mmm, no fancy machines,” Rodimus mumbled, turning around to bury his face in Megatron’s expansive chest. Ratchet and Drift had quite the array of colorful machines that could do all sorts of things in all sorts of positions. “Don’t like their fucking machines when I’m a pet. S’loud and scary.”

“It will be done,” Megatron assured. “From what I could gather, it is a celebration. Drift has completely recovered from recent cosmetic surgery. Ratchet said he requested you to be the first he tries his new mod on.”

“Mmm, Drift’s needy,” Rodimus muttered, fondness creeping through his lax field. Then, without heed to what he’d just said, he commanded, “Hold me.”

“Of course, my flame.” Megatron planted a firm kiss against Rodimus’ helm and gave his aft a squeeze as he wrapped both arms around his waist. “You’ll receive a debrief after I negotiate then. Anything you object to will have to be told directly to Ratchet, understood? He will be the overseeing dominant. He is only beholden to me if he does anything you don’t like. Yes?”

“Mhmm,” Rodimus hummed, latching himself onto Megatron once he felt his lover relax into the berth. He forgot about the plans with Drift and Ratchet for now- he had a nap to take. 

* * *

“Is everything arranged?” Ratchet asked Megatron, eyeing him up and down and glancing at the kennel he had brought with him. “Any special instructions?”

“My pet has been a bit needy,” Megatron said, sounding disappointed to be handing his pet off, though he pretended not to hear the whimpering coming from the crate. “I think he’s close to heat. You’ll keep your mutt on a short leash, I assume? Wouldn’t do to breed him with such messy code.”

“What do you take me for? I’ll keep an eye on them,” Ratchet insisted. “But do tell me when you’re ready to breed him. You might not want my mutt to do the job, but I know some mecha.”

Rodimus waited patiently where he knelt within the crate limiting his vision. His view consisted of Ratchet's pedes where he stood just in front of the doorway to Drift and Ratchet’s shared hab. The conversation was all a part of the script— Rodimus knew for a fact that Ratchet intended to give him and Drift as much uninterrupted and unsupervised time together as possible, though there may be an obstacle or two.

“Here are his treats. Only two a cycle,” Megatron insisted, and Rodimus heard the rustle of a cube filled with energon delicacies. There were more in the cube than they would use, but it was all a part of the scene. Maybe he and Drift could even raid it if he could convince his fellow submissive to make trouble with him. “He’s on a special diet at the moment. No indulgences. Also, he is doing deepthroat training. If you’re leaving him alone, I’d prefer he be training with the gag I’ve provided. Feel free to put your own training in, if you feel the desire.”

“Of course. Is that it?” Ratchet asked, sounding impatient

“That’s it. Oh, and,” Megatron waved, as if he had forgotten. “You have my support for any punishment you deem fair. You know how he is. He requires hard and fast boundaries.”

“It’s not my first time holding his leash, Megatron.”

With another handoff of something, perhaps equipment or more prepared props, Rodimus found the crate being lifted and transported. He whined deep in his throat, hoping it counted as a goodbye to his Daddy, and nosed his faceplate against the crosshatch bars. He didn’t get to see Megatron off.

Once the kennel was set on the ground Rodimus was greeted by Ratchet’s smug smile.

“Come on out now, pet,” Ratched crooned, the door of the kennel opening up for Rodimus to make his escape.

Rodimus scrambled out as quickly as he could, hampered by the paw-shaped gloves that restricted his servos. Knee pads kept him from knocking his knee joints along the hard floor, though they did cause him to skid as he attempted to stop fast. His ankles were tied up behind his thighs, resting against his hips to keep him on all fours. Rodimus was disobedient enough to warrant a total restriction of his legs.

“That’s a good boy,” Ratchet hummed, rattling the treat cube. Rodimus immediately sat at attention, knowing if he sat pretty and still long enough it was possible Ratchet would reward him just for looking cute. Ratchet was a much more lenient dominant than his Daddy– at least to Rodimus he was lenient. He couldn’t speak for Drift.

The thought of his playmate had him squirming as he sat attentive for Ratchet, waiting to see if he would get his treat or not. He had a feeling that Ratchet might allow him more than just his two allotted treats. 

“What a good boy you are,” Ratchet said as he held a silica-wafer above Rodimus’ helm. “Sit pretty, that’s it. Hold it.” Ratchet placed the wafer on Rodimus’ nose and let it balance, smirking as the pet did as he was bid. Ratchet was always inclined to show his pets exactly how good they could have it if they obeyed. Getting Rodimus to obey was all about positive reinforcement, as far as Ratchet was concerned. Rodimus liked all kinds of attention, whether it was negative or positive, and showing him he could have the positive attention if he would only sit still and behave worked wonders. That, and Ratchet was much less inclined towards beating his submissives. Not to say he didn’t have  _ other _ means of punishment.

“Alright, it’s yours,” Ratchet said, allowing Rodimus to tilt his helm and snap up the treat balancing on his olfactory. While Rodimus was enjoying his snack, Ratchet tugged a loop of hard-light out from a notch in Rodimus’ collar and pulled him towards the play-room. 

Rodimus followed behind, helm held high and wiggling his rump to make the magnetized tail wag back and forth behind him. As he trotted into the play room, or an approximation of a trot, he saw exactly where his playmate was, and shivered. 

Drift was curled up in a nest of soft looking tarps and mesh blankets, with several pillows and a handful of chewed up toys, the most recently attacked one looking worse for wear. When he caught sight of Rodimus being led in, Drift rose up to his servos and knees and growled, plating flared open at its widest point. The stance of aggression caused Rodimus to pull back against the leash out of surprise, only for Ratchet to tug him forward.

“Shh, don’t worry, he’s friendly,” Ratchet insisted, giving Rodimus’ crest a pet to soothe him. When Drift growled again, this time supported by a bark, Ratchet snapped his digits at his pet. “Enough. Play nice.”

Drift stayed at alert. He was donned in more intense attire; his and Ratchet’s relationship was modeled after much more pet-play than Rodimus did, and so his enhancements were more complicated, and obvious. The tail looked like a plug, but it seemed to move in instinct with Drift as opposed to just an accessory. He had on detachable kibble around his helm to replicate the look of turbohound audials that also moved with him, as well as the same kind of restrictive paw-gloves that Rodimus had on. He had been given a holopaint for the scene, to make him look mostly black and red. It was a color scheme that Rodimus knew well. Drift didn’t often take up Deadlock’s colors for scenes, but when he did Rodimus could count on him to make it good.

Rodimus stayed where he was once they entered the room, seating himself firmly and making Ratchet pull on the leash. “Come on, don’t let his bark get to you. Shh, that’s right, you’re safe.”

As Ratchet soothed him he pet Rodimus’ helm, turning his back completely to Drift. Rodimus caught on quick, but it only seemed to rile Drift up more, who barked and made to lunge at Rodimus. When he did, the leash attached to a convenient hook in the floor pulled taut and yanked him back.

_ [Want it now?] _ Ratchet commed, busy giving Rodimus a good physical once-over to ensure his good shape. Whenever he got his servos on a submissive he liked to be assured of their physical health before the scene. 

_ [Yes, Sir, I’m ready,] _ Rodimus said, pinging Ratchet a green light. He lifted his head so Ratchet could swipe a hand under his throat and attach the small adhesive patch to the side of his neck. Immediately Rodimus was pinged with a keycode to activate the patch, which he did. He moaned as the code sent a short burst of charge, as well as a string of code to perpetuate charge replication. It was a modified patch, one that didn’t raise core temperature (Rodimus didn’t need any help with that, thank you very much) but still elicited enough charge to get him amped up and horny. It was perfectly safe, with a charge capacitor in place to make sure he didn’t burn out any circuits. Its goal wasn’t to make him mad with lust, but to ensure a steady charge for as long as it was active. Which, depending how long the scene went, was either the end of the scene or after about a full cycle. 

“That’s a good boy,” Ratchet crooned, one of his servos sliding between Rodimus’ thighs to cup his exposed valve. A digit swirled the lubricant around between his valve lips. “You’re definitely in heat. Your Daddy knows you well, doesn’t he?”

Rodimus was too busy looking back at Drift, who was kneeling at the very last inch of his leash, still growling loud enough for both he and Ratchet to hear. Rodimus shivered, already smelling the ozone exuding from Drift, who was charged and ready to pounce. Rodimus knew once he was off-leash then there would be nothing to stop him. 

“You’ve had a big trip, let’s get you comfortable.” Ratchet tugged on Rodimus’ leash and led him to the opposite end of the room, where there was a space similar to Drift’s set up. Ratchet tied the hard-light leash to a hook in the floor, much like Drift’s, There were several mesh blankets and a few pillows. Ratchet dug through Rodimus’ care bag and pulled out some of his favorite toys. One was a stuffed titanium moose that Rodimus enjoyed snuggling, and the other was a dildo gag he was particularly fond of. It was long and unyieldingly hard in a way that left his throat tubing with a pleasant ache. 

“Your Daddy wants you to wear this, pet,” Ratchet announced as he raised the gag. Rodimus’ jaw dropped and his lips parted obediently in anticipation. It was never hard to get him to wear his gag. Or to put anything in his mouth, really. “What a good boy you are, so easy to take care of.”

As Ratchet fed him the false spike, Rodimus swallowed to ease its passage. Ratchet’s free servo massaged against his throat cables, encouraging them to relax and open up around the dildo. Rodimus bucked forward with a gag as his throat rebuked. Frame tense, Ratchet only held his helm still while he kicked and was made to swallow down another torturous inch. When his frame went limp, that was when Ratchet fixed the straps of the gag around his helm. Behind his glazed optics, Rodimus succumbed to Ratchet’s subjugation. 

Ratchet released him and Rodimus’ whole frame jerked again as he gagged and was forced to endure the discomfort. Charge crackled over his armor and his optics went dim— there was little to focus on other than the overwhelming arousal licking out in his field. Rodimus whimpered, and reached out for his dominant, tears beading at his optics. 

“Shhh, pet, lovely, you did lovely,” Ratchet assured, servos stroking along Rodimus’ sleek waist and his helm crest. It did, slowly, help Rodimus to relax. His throat still constricted every now and then, but his frame remained lax and pliant in Ratchet’s hold. “That’s a good boy. You’re doing well, this is what your Daddy wants. You’re training for him, remember? He’ll be very pleased with you after I tell him how good you were for me. You want your Daddy to be proud, don’t you?”

Rodimus felt helpless to do anything but nod vigorously, the act making his throat constrict again. He wanted nothing more than the satisfaction that Daddy was proud of him, that he had done everything well enough to get that dearly beloved  _ ‘good boy’ _ from Megatron’s derma. Getting it from Ratchet was nice- more than nice- but from Megatron it was a treasure he sought after ceaselessly. Rodimus whined and butted his hips against Ratchet, his valve hot and his spike needy. He was still bound to his frame, and would not let Ratchet forget it.

“Of course you do. You’re doing so good. I’m going to go do some work, and I’ll be back to bring you your evening energon. You relax here and try not to stress yourself.” Ratchet noticed how Rodimus’ gaze kept returning to his mutt across the room, who was still waiting at attention. He gave Rodimus another firm pet. “Don’t you worry about that mutt. He’s harmless. You know him, you’ve played with him before. He’s just feisty because he can smell you’re in heat.”

_ [Your word?] _ Ratchet prodded.

_ [Green,] _ Rodimus assured. He soaked up the attention while he could. When Ratchet finally arose to leave him he flopped back down into the cushy nest he had been provided, his frame hot and sticky already from the ozone generated by his charge. His valve clenched on nothing. 

Watching from the nest, Rodimus focused on the attention Ratchet was giving Drift now. Ratchet gave Drift rough rubs around the neck, and then strongarmed him onto his back to give his belly the same treatment. Rodimus watched with only moderate jealousy, knowing he had gotten his due and he would get it again. The way Ratchet reached over and twisted the hook in the floor to loosen it didn’t escape Rodimus. He knew Drift had seen it too.

As Ratchet gave his pet one last tousle he reached into his pocket and pulled out a treat for Drift, who sat diligently and waited. Once Drift had settled at attention, Ratchet divulged the treat and parted with a pat and a, “Good mutt.”

A comm came in even before Ratchet had left,  _ [I’m still here, pet. You know what to say if you need me.] _

Once the door closed with an ominous clink, Drift’s attention was on Rodimus. He was up on his servos and knees, stance one of intimidation and aggression; audial attachments pointed up, tail out and hackles raised. Rodimus could hear his engine growling deep in his frame. It spurred Rodimus to squirm back against the wall, a small pile of blankets and distance the only thing between him and Drift. He cuddled his titanium moose plushie close between his forearms, using it to hide his face.

When he peaked out, Drift was still staring. Not only that, he was pacing the length of his leash and thrashing his helm away from the lead to test its slack. When he caught Rodimus staring, Drift started barking. The baying was accompanied by more leaps and pulling at the hard light leash. Exaggerated snuffling and pawing to the ground ensued. Drift was smelling his ‘heat.’

Rodimus whined into the blankets and his moose, whimpering as his thighs brushed together to create some friction against his node. He was rapidly reaching the point where he wouldn’t care if Drift got loose. Better he get it rough and hard than not at all. 

Drift barked and lunged again, pulling the hook up with him this time. That was when Rodimus knew his time was up, and he shrank back, trying to make himself as least threatening as possible. As Drift dove for him, scrambling ahead to close the distance between them, Rodimus turned onto his back to expose his abdomen, paws pulled tight against his chest in submissive surrender.

Rodimus squirmed as Drift pinned him, muzzle in between his legs first thing. His broad, wet glossa scalded his molten valve with every lap upward. It was all-encompassing. With Drift, there was no waiting, no build up– just his tongue wet and sloppy against his dripping cunt. As he slurped noisily between Rodimus’ legs, Drift growled and groped at the Prime’s hip flares, his nasal ridge pressed against Rodimus’ anterior node with force enough to send the Prime gasping.

Making himself as small as possible, Rodimus shifted his weight to roll smoothly onto his knees. Drift nudged and encouraged every movement. Rodimus settled onto his paws, knees splayed apart while Drift continued to smear lubricant across his valve with his glossa. Every lap up into his hole had him gagging around the false spike in an attempt to beg.

Drift wasted no time. He mounted Rodimus with purpose, hips surging forward and clanging hard against Rodimus’ thighs. Drift pulled back just as quickly, raw and dripping spike smearing lubricant across orange plating. The second his spike jutted hard against Rodimus’ anterior node cluster, before sinking home on the third.

The force of penetration was enough for Rodimus to wail pitifully behind his gag. Freely flowing lubricant eases the tapered head of Drift’s spike into him without pain, but spread him open with great force. The stretch made him jerk away, an attempt to escape the onslaught of sensation pulsing through his swollen valve pleats. 

Drift gave nothing gentle. He planted his paws over Rodimus’ shoulders to drape himself across his back, hips clanging against Rodimus’ aft with every brutal stroke. The prime wheezed, ceiling node pulsing with every abrupt thrust. The heat patch did its job to keep Rodimus aroused and leaky despite the lack of foreplay, slicking every deadening push in. Not only did he drive Rodimus into the floor with every shove forward, he growled and latched onto Rodimus’ neck with vicious fangs. Rodimus was helpless to do anything but overload hard around his fellow pet’s spike. 

Rodimus felt Drift’s new mod catch on the rim of his lax, twitching valve, the only thing that gave away how close Drift was to overload. He mewled every time his valve caught on the rapidly swelling bulb, charge already building towards a second overload. 

Tears came as the knot became too large to pull out after it had been so brutally shoved into him. Rodimus squealed around the dildo, thrashing against the hold Drift had on him as he continued his rutting. Fat tears of lubricant slipped down Rodimus’ cheeks as Drift jerked his hips  _ back _ , and drew Rodimus with him; stuck on his knot. 

Rodimus sniffled, cowed into submission by Drift’s rough use of him. He whined and arched into the tender glossa that lapped at the teeth marks on his neck, marking him as a bred bitch. His charge was still high, leaving him clenching around Drift’s knot. Hot streams of transfluid jetted directly against Rodimus’ gestation tank, coating his ceiling node in charged fluid. He whined into the floor, burying his face into the titanium moose toy to comfort himself.

Drift kept rolling his hips, growling above Rodimus as he chased another overload. He was still ejaculating, transfluid pouring around his spike with nowhere to go. It mixed with the puddle of lubricant Rodimus had been dripping.

That was exactly the point the door to the playroom cycled open. 

Ratchet tutted as he walked forward with a shake of his helm. This prompted Drift to growl and hold tighter to his bitch, who was still convulsing around his knot so sweetly. 

“Shh,” Ratchet placated, servos up to show he meant no harm. “I’m not going to take your catch, mutt. I suppose I should have expected something like this to happen.”

Seeing that he wouldn’t be removed from his bitch, Drift continued his lazy rutting. His grinding pushed Rodimus into the floor again, causing him to wail with piteous pleasure. The knot was still wedged tight in his valve.

“Poor pet,” Ratchet hummed. He knelt down to stroke Rodimus’ helm, hushing Drift’s warning growls. “Are you stuck on his big knot? It’s nice and thick, isn’t it? He saved it just for you. You’re the first one to be bred on my mutt’s knot.”

Rodimus keened, burying his face into Ratchet’s knees. It was humiliating, being laid out like a feast for his fellow pet. Still it stoked the coals of his arousal. His spike twitched, already leaking prefluid, and Ratchet’s newly wandering servos weren’t doing anything to remedy it. 

“Here, let me help.” The straps around Rodimus’ helm were loosened, and the dildo was torturously pulled from his bruised throat. Just as the head was about to be released, Ratchet plunged the spike back into his swollen tubing. The resulting convulsions had Drift howling.

“You can do it,” Ratchet coaxed, one servo massaging Rodimus’ throat cables while he fed him the false spike with the other. He moved the dildo in time with Drift’s swaying so as not to give Rodimus a chance to recover or regroup his thoughts. Rodimus was at his most obedient when he was lost in sensation and put to task. Ratchet wanted to occupy every part of his mind while Drift ravaged him.

“That’s it.” Ratchet crooned with every plunge in, petting Rodimus to encourage him. He wiped away the tears with a thumb. “You look beautiful being bred, such a  _ good boy _ .”

Optics brightened as Rodimus gurgled behind the assault on his throat. Energy poured through his struts, grounding through him with a fantastic show of force as the exhaust pipes on his legs shot fire. His overload was punctuated by Drift digging fangs back into the mark on the back of his neck, and then jerking from side to side in an attempt to shake him like a ragdoll.

The sharp pang in his neck was a distraction from the ache in his throat, leaving Rodimus vacant and caught between the two sensations. He hung in the limbo of Ratchet’s immovable object and Drift’s unstoppable force like a stained glass window. With a shriek, Rodimus shattered.

* * *

The reboot was short this time. Rodimus onlined to Ratchet’s steady, warm servos petting his helm with soothing strokes. His head lay in Ratchet’s crossed lap, his lower body still occupied by Drift. The knot was still engaged, but Drift seemed to have stopped his incessant motion. The friction was no longer Rodimus’ most forefront thought, and thus allowed room for more coherent observations.

“Holy fuck it’s so big, oh fuck,” Rodimus gasped out, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he buried himself into Ratchet’s midsection. Servos snaked around the good doctor’s middle, holding tight as his wobbly cables attempted to push his frame into the waiting arms of his dominant.

“I didn’t say we were done, pet,” Ratchet said, leaning forward to strike an open palm down across Rodimus’ aft several times. “Do you need the gag again?”

Rodimus wailed, head shaking frantically as he was spanked without mercy. The knot shrank just enough to pop out with a wet squelch as Ratchet laid a final smack across his ass. Quivering thighs framed his slack valve, seeping transfluid in strings and globs down his thighs. A mess of paint transfers streaked along his aft, matching a set on Drift’s pelvic armor. 

“The only thing I want to hear from you is your word, understood?” Ratchet gripped Rodimus by the jaw, three fingers sinking between his lips. He held Rodimus’ tongue down, causing him to gag in an attempt to free himself.

_ [Yes, Sir,] _ Rodimus sobbed into his comms. Tears rolled in steady tracks from over-bright optics, making a pretty picture that Ratchet made sure to capture and send to Megatron. 

Raw heat bloomed between Rodimus’ legs. He cried out, heady with need as Drift lapped at his oversensitive, swollen valve lips. Every touch was like fire in his overclocked sensornet. Even with his wiggling Drift pushed forward with a nasty hunger, arms circling around Rodimus’ legs to hold him in place.

Drift lapped the transfluid out of him in broad, steady strokes, until the burn in his valve was soothed to a dull ache. Rodimus panted against Ratchet’s legs as he was ruthlessly licked open. Distracted, he barely noticed Ratchet’s panel shifting aside and his spike pressurizing against Rodimus’ cheek.

“That’s it, pet,” Ratchet said, sighing as he fed Rodimus his spike. He helped his pet slide along the shaft of his spike with long, slow strokes into his well-worked intake tubes. “Do you miss his knot?”

Rodimus couldn’t answer verbally. He was too busy being torn asunder from two different ends, put to use the way he was wanted,  _ needed. _ Rodimus vanished under the still waters of submission. 

There came a point where Rodimus noticed Drift had stopped licking him. His field was still full and warm from behind, but he had blissfully left Rodimus’ sore equipment alone. He was able to focus on Ratchet and his thick, heated spike lighting up the sensory rich derma of his intake. Soft nubs under the head of Ratchet’s girthy shaft scraped along his throat channel

Ratchet pulled out to overload across Rodimus’ face in a display that had his engine revving. Rodimus vented in deep gasps, his frame going lax at the tenuous release of tension his dominant’s overload had given him. 

“Good boy.” Ratchet stroked Rodimus’ helm fins as he shuffled the Prime down onto the mesh blankets. He reached to unhook the hard-light leash from the hook in the floor, and released it back into the collar, then did the same for Drift, who he gave a stroke along the muzzle. “You’re a naughty mutt, but no point in locking you up now. Damage is done. Besides…”

Rodimus gasped as Ratchet squeezed his thigh. His array was still hot and slick despite Drift’s thorough cleaning. “This bitch might need to be bred again.”

Drift shifted over Rodimus to lick the transfluid from his faceplate. He cleaned his face just as dutifully as he had his valve. Rodimus wished that he would kiss him, alas pets didn’t kiss.

The rattle of the treat container caught Rodimus’ attention. He whined and flopped against the nestled pillows and blankets, unwilling to sit up even for his beloved treats. Rodimus did his best to look as pitiful as possible.

“Poor thing,” Ratchet chuckled, flicking out a silica wafer for Rodimus to catch. Drift snatched it out of the air in his jaws before Rodimus could even react. It only made Ratchet laugh again. “Naughty!”

Ratchet retrieved another treat when Rodimus whined. He hand-fed it to him, not letting his cheeky mutt get the chance to snap it up. Ratchet petted Rodimus’ cheek ridges with a coo, pleased to see him relaxing.

“Remember, I’ve got you for the whole cycle,” Ratchet said, giving Rodimus’ face a little shake within his grip. His thumb brushed against the heat patch still churning Rodimus’ charge. He laughed when Rodimus whined and pulled away, but didn’t push him for more. “Alright. You cuddle up with the mutt. I’ve got energon on the way shortly. Your treat should hold you over until then. Can I trust you to be quiet if I go finish up my work?”

Rodimus shook his helm decisively. He opened his intake for what he knew was to come.

This time when Ratchet inserted the dildo gag it was much more methodical and clinical than it had been before with his charge running rampant. Rodimus twitched minimally and relaxed, obedient, around the spike. 

“Good boy,” Ratchet praised, giving Rodimus a cursory pet. “I’ll be back, don’t be naughty or you’ll get yourself another spanking.”

Though he chided Rodimus to be good, Rodimus definitely noticed he left the treat container by the door instead of taking it with him.

Drift nestled up against Rodimus’ back, chin laying on his shoulder with a rumble of affection. His spike, soft and unaroused, rubbed against Rodimus’ tender aft. 

_ [You good?] _ Drift commed at the same time as he gave Rodimus’ helm fin a nip. Rodimus could tell that Drift was still deep in the headspace of a pet, but coherent enough after losing his charge.

_ [Kinda deep,] _ Rodimus admitted, turning over and throwing a leg over Drift’s hip to close the distance between them. They tangled until as much of their frames were touching as possible. Their initial scene was over, now they were just two pets cuddling after a fulfilling playtime.

That thought gave Rodimus an idea. He lifted his helm and glanced over at the temptation Ratchet had left by the door. He nudged Drift and motioned over his shoulder.

_ [Wanna be bad?] _


End file.
